hly interesting, I cannot say
that I am much in sympathy with the vague outlines of the modern French
lyric heroines; "Melisande" and "Ariane" I think can be better entrusted
to artists of a less positive type.

CHAPTER XIV

THE DAYS I NOW ENJOY

The season of 1913-14 came very near proving disastrous for me. After
repeated danger signals, at last overtaxed Nature took her revenge. I
was unable to cope successfully with a bad attack of bronchitis, which
made me lose the opening night. Some days afterward, still ill, I was
obstinate enough to insist on a "Madame Butterfly" performance, and I
collapsed completely in a "Faust" performance later that same week.

I shall never forget my state of mind. Despair overcame me. The awful
nightmare had come to pass. I should probably never sing again! Then
there flashed through my mind: How should I endure this enforced
inactivity? Daily, hourly, I waited, and watched, and coaxed a
betterment of my physical condition, which, after all, was at the bottom
of my minor vocal troubles. Outside, a generous and affectionate public
had not forgotten me, while Mr. Gatti was most kind and patient with
this fretful songbird.

[Illustration: "CARMEN"]

One day I judged myself at last ready to venture a performance. Upon my
appearance I was greeted with such welcoming applause as threatened to
interfere with my continuance of the opera. My heart was full of
gratitude as I bowed and bowed my thanks. By dint of care and caution I
was able to finish the season with credit, even taking the fatiguing
trip to Atlanta, Georgia, prior to sailing, in order not to disappoint
that loyal and enthusiastic public. That year, too, was the American
_premiere_ of the long-awaited sequel to "Louise"--"Julian," a
hodge-podge of operatic efforts that brought little satisfaction to
anybody concerned in it. To my surprise the repellent characterization
of the gutter-girl in its last act moved some critical craniums to
speculate favorably on the ultimate success of "Carmen," should I ever
attempt this role.

My summer was a long one of quiet and absolute rest. When I was ready to
sail home Europe was beginning to seethe in her terrible conflict. I
raced from Munich to Amsterdam to get an available neutral steamer; but
the prevailing confusion and panic occasioned by the fall of Antwerp and
mine disasters in the northern waters made it advisable for me to follow
Mr. Gatti's insistent message to join h